Something Funny
by Nightvowl
Summary: Tara's bogged down with work. Pam grows suspicious.
1. Something Funny

**Title**:Something Funny

**Pairing**: Pam/Tara

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **Read this and Lettie Mae will condemn you to hell. Also? I own nada

**Synopsis:** Tara's bogged down with work. Pam is growing suspicious.

**Psst:** Had this sitting on my dummy book for damn near a year so I figured I'd at least post part of it before it fossilizes on my hard drive. Same universe as the others. Takes place in ~the future~ (cue spacey future music) after the last one shot..Business Work. Title jacked from a classic reggae song by the Wailing Souls. Whoever correctly guesses what actress Lark was inspired by gets a…Idk. Nothing, most likely. Eventually I'll put all of these stories in one convenient location somewhere where they can be read chronologically. Until then..

* * *

Ambling into what looked more like a small SOHO boutique than a closet, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort stood between two long rows of her meticulously organized clothes, shoes, and accessories. Normally, when faced with the prospect of dressing for a special occasion, the fashion conscious vampire would simply purchase a new outfit. But tonight was more than a special occasion. Tonight she would reunite the man to whom she owed her everlasting life, to whom she owed everything.

It seemed like a lifetime since she'd left her maker to carve out a new life with the young vampire who'd captivated her very soul…what was left of it, anyway. And while it pained Pam to leave, she knew it would hurt her progeny even more to stay. In those tempestuous days of their burgeoning relationship, neither she nor Tara could be certain of where things were headed. On more than one occasion that uncertainty had driven them apart. In most instances their separations proved disastrous.

The memory of how she'd nearly lost her young charge to a silver chain wielding redneck werewolf and his inbred pack of V addicts was still enough to make the worldly vampire seethe. Pam swore to herself back then that she'd never let anyone or anything come between her and Tara. It was an oath she'd upheld until now.

_I may be runnin' late._

Pam frowned as she looked down at her mobile timepiece and reread Tara's text message. Although she'd informed Tara of her maker's visit weeks in advance, the younger vampire still ended up stuck at work on the night of their dinner.

Pam knew how seriously Tara took her job and the responsibilities that came along with it. Still she couldn't help but wonder if something else, or rather someone else was occupying the usually devoted vampire's time. She knew from prior experience that nothing was impossible.

An unbidden image of a young Sookie Stackhouse surfaced in Pam's increasingly glum thoughts. Never would she have imagined that her hundred-year old bond with Eric would begin to unravel over a gap-toothed bumpkin with a moronic name, and yet it had.

As much as she loathed the idea, Pam couldn't help but consider the distinct possibility that the woman she loved more than immortality itself may one-day follow in the footsteps of her sire. It was unreasonable, after all, to expect any vampire to want to stay settled down for long. Even more so when the vampire in question was young, beautiful, and turned in the prime of her human life.

Though she scarcely seemed to notice her many admirers, Tara caught the eye of men and women wherever she went. Pam figured it was only a matter of time before someone caught her eye as well. And if she had to wager whom that someone might be, she would have put her money on Lark Stewart.

Tara's latest underling at HMAL, Lark was a born head turner. Curly, sandy brown hair framed her deceptively youthful face while full lips and alluring hazel eyes complimented well-defined cheekbones and an angular jaw line. Her olive complexioned skin completed what was, by all accounts, a very pretty package.

There was something else about Lark; something intrinsic that made the young mortal particularly enticing to vampires - her blood smelled divine. It was a unique smell that Pam had encountered years before and hoped to never encounter again.

She remembered the first time they'd met. It had been the first, and last, time Tara was able to convince her to attend HMAL's annual Christmas party.

"Do They Know it's Christmas Time" had just begun to play as Pam attempted to cross the stuffy Notting Hill pub. So ridiculous were the lyrics that the vampire had to stop short to silently question what she'd done to deserve her stint in holiday hell. It was then that the tall blonde felt a slight figure crash into her from behind and flood her senses with an all too familiar scent.

"Sorry about that."

Pam spun around to assess the contrite creature. She was as diminutive in size as the halfling she'd once known, but that's where the similarities ended.

Spotting Pam's dangerously raised brow from across the crowded room, Tara sped through the maze of partygoers to stand between her maker and her coworker.

"Lark," She exclaimed, flashing a cheerful yet anxious smile.

"Tara," Lark squeaked in surprise as her face lit up. "What took you so bloody long?"

"We, uh, had some stuff to do around the house," Tara lied awkwardly. It was down to Pam and her ridiculously demanding libido that they nearly missed the party altogether.

Looking from her adorably embarrassed supervisor to the smug blonde beside her, Lark instantly realized what Tara meant by 'stuff'. "Oh, of course," she exclaimed, smiling faintly. "You must be Tara's old lady."

Staring down the mortal with a puckish glint in her chilly eyes, Pam imagined how much livelier the holiday shindig would be if she began to drain her like a glass of eggnog.

"Gather round, lads!"

A distinctly Irish voice bellowed, capturing the attention of everyone in the pub. Stood on top of the bar, a bear of a man with a Santa hat sitting haphazardly on his baldhead and little else on his ruddy body beckoned the men of the pub to him.

"Santa's ready to fulfill all your XXX-mas desires."

"If that ain't a lawsuit waitin' to happen," Tara remarked dryly at the sight of her boss motioning the new human resources guy to sit on his lap. It wasn't long after her she began working at HMAL that Tara discovered the seemingly conservative organization was chock full of closet freaks.

Lark, on the other hand, was still learning about her employers. "I am so recording this," She declared, looking positively scandalized as she grabbed Tara's hand and led her toward the spectacle.

Left standing alone in the middle of the crowded pub, Pam decided that she'd endured enough Christmas cheer. The night was still young and her encounter with the disconcertingly familiar smelling woman left her feeling more than a bit unnerved.

She needed blood, preferably from someone not wearing a tacky holiday sweater. Ducking out of the party unnoticed, she sped off to find a decent meal. In retrospect, Pam wished she'd stuck around to observe her partner's interaction with the colleague she suspected was after more than a working relationship.

_Got another EHV. Sorry_

Rolling her eyes at Tara's latest text message apology, Pam swapped her mobile watch for a Chanel bracelet and resumed getting ready.

* * *

Slumped in the passenger seat of her coworker's moving car, Tara watched as the polished central London cityscape gave way to the subdued sights of working class Gospel Oak. While it was true that she hadn't been particularly moved by word of Eric's impending visit, she had no intention of delibertely snubbing Pam's maker

Staring at her mobile, she wondered if she could convince Pam of that.

"You're doing your job, Tara. You've got nothing to feel guilty for," Lark said quietly, knowing precisely what the vampire was thinking about.

Tara groaned inwardly. Even with a mind reader for a best friend, she never grew used to the idea of someone poking around her thoughts. She was almost relieved when the distinctly rhythmic sound of Jacob Miller's 'Tenement Yard' began to play on Lark's stereo system.

The product of a Scottish, ska loving father and a West Indian mother, the young Londoner worshipped at the altar of reggae music. Tara, on the other hand, hated the genre she associated with a self-centered Jamaican track darling she'd briefly dated in High School.

"Here we are," Lark announced as she pulled the car to a stop in the shadow of a decrepit looking tower block.

Tara glowered at the looming structure, a crumbling testament to all she despised about humanity and its lack thereof.

"Worry not, rich gyal, I shall see you safely to your destination," Lark teased as she read Tara's mind. "This is nothing compared to the council I grew up in."

"I am many things, but rich ain't one of 'em," Tara replied, zipping up her bright red hoodie like a suit of cotton armor.

"You're doing a lovely impression, I must say," Lark ribbed. "The massive house in Mayfair is a particularly artful touch."

"Yeah well, I can't exactly take credit for that," Tara admitted, remembering how Pam had shocked the then owner of their five-story terraced townhouse by casually knocking on his door with an offer to purchase what hadn't even been for sale.

Though the offer was staunchly refused, Pam returned the next night with two antique steamer trunks filled with more money than the adamant man had ever hoped to see. Needless to say, he began singing a very different tune.

It wasn't until sometime during the vampire friendly retrofitting of their new home that Tara discovered the house had been the last known address of Pam's human parents, who'd moved from their family home on Hyde Park Gate soon after they'd effectively exiled their unsuspecting daughter to the United States.

Pam arrived in San Francisco four weeks before her thirtieth birthday with two Louis Vuitton steamer trunks full of clothes and just enough money for a carriage ride to a fake address. After that, it was only a matter of time before she was forced to the transition from socialite to streetwalker.

Tara bristled with contempt as she exited Lark's car and walked purposefully toward the entrance of the high-rise building. It was people like Pam's parents that made her job so hellish.

"Hey, wait up," Lark yelled from behind.

"It's an emergency visit," Tara called over her shoulder. "The key word being emergency."

"So why don't you just use your super spectacular vamp powers and fly us up?" Lark teased. "We can skip waiting for the smelly lift and get there in a f-"

Lark never finished her sentence as Tara suddenly took her advice and raced them up ten stories in three seconds flat.

"Fuck me! A little warning next time, yeah?"

Ignoring the mortal's complaint, Tara immediately caught sight of a young man pacing nervously back and forth. Tell tale signs of vampire bite marks and recently healed keloid scars marred his dark arms.

"You Moses?" Lark asked in a concerned tone as she took a cautious step toward him.

"It ain't workin'. It ain't workin'," the human muttered as if in shock.

"What ain't workin'?" Tara asked apprehensively, her gaze darting over his shoulder to the apartment behind him where she could hear an almighty commotion taking place.

"The TB," He started frantically. "She won't drink. She just went off it alluva sudden and I don't know what-"

The blood-curdling wail of a child sounded and in the blink of an eye Tara was gone.

In over six years working for the HMAL, she'd dealt with human-vampire adoptions gone sour, discarded baby vamps, forcibly turned runaways, and pretty much everything one could imagine. Never before, however, had she encountered anything like this.

She was a two and a half-foot tall, pink swaddled blur, smashing everything she could get her tiny hands on in the already ransacked apartment.

"What's wrong?" Lark asked in a panic as she came up behind Tara. It was only a matter of milliseconds before the child was upon her.

"Fucking 'ell," she hollered as she felt a small set of razor sharp toddler sized vampire teeth pierced the flesh of her thigh. The painful attack ended almost as soon as it began.

Quickly prying the tiny attacker off her coworker, Tara struggled to maintain her hold on the thirty pounds of pure baby vampire strength kicking, thrashing and wailing in her arms. Though her tiny face was streaked with bloody tears, it was plain to see that she couldn't have been more than three-years-old in human years.

"See," The hysterical man shrieked. "She's well outta control."

If Tara hadn't been holding the child in that moment she would have choked the life out of him. "Who did this," She asked menacingly.

The man raked a shaky hand through his kinky hair.

"Who. Fucking. Did. This" Tara shouted furiously, causing both Lark and Moses to flinch.

"My mate," Moses stammered. "I asked him as a favor."

"Jesus," Tara whispered, not fully comprehending the admission she'd just heard.

"She was ill," He continued. "For a long time and they-they told me they couldn't do nothin' else for her. They told me I should prepare to lose my baby girl," He finished, wiping an errant tear from his youthful face.

"What's her name?" Lark inquired kindly, placing a hand on the distraught father's shoulder to calm him.

"Beyoncé," Moses replied with a sniffle. "Her mum was a big fan," he explained, peering helplessly at his child. "I just call her Yon."

"Yon's mum? Is she…no longer with us," Lark inquired tactfully.

"Oh no, she's alive. Been banged up since she got caught nickin' sucker sludge at Tesco," Moses clarified.

"I hate to break up the chit chat, but your daughter needs blood. Now," Tara spoke frankly, her eyes now looking upon the father with pity rather than rage.

Lark quickly rolled up her sleeve and offered her wrist to the child, surprising both Tara and the Yon's father.

"No," Tara said, swiftly rejecting the mortal's offer. She wasn't at all convinced she could show a vampire turned so young to properly feed. "She's small, but she could drain you in a minute if she's hungry enough."

"What other choice do we have?" Lark questioned. "She's gone off the premium stuff and we haven't even got that."

As per HMAL policy, all case workers were only allowed to dispense generic synthetic blood in cases of emergency. Fortunately for the kids she served, Tara never made a habit of abiding by anyone's rules.

* * *

**I know Sookeh can't read vampire minds but I've decided Lark can because...because...**

***drops smoke bomb and disappears***


	2. A Certain Sadness

If I don't post this now, I'll obsess over the details for another 8 months so here goes

* * *

"Where are we going?" Lark asked, peering through her rearview mirror at Tara as she cradled the now unconscious baby vamp in the backseat.

"Turn right," Tara directed distractedly, her hand gently wiping crusted blood from the child's tan face with a damp cloth. The protective vampire couldn't help but think that the girl looked like any other innocent toddler. She felt like crying as she brushed tight flaxen curls away from the girl's forehead.

"Stop," Tara spoke in a hushed tone. A bullhorn wouldn't have woken the baby, but it still felt right to speak gently around her. "Wait here," She instructed as she climbed out of the backseat.

"Turn left, turn right, stop, pull over, wait here," Lark complained before disregarding Tara's latest instruction. "You are _extraordinarily_ bossy."

Nearing the entrance of a dark alleyway, Tara stopped short and turned around. Although there was something about her coworker that she trusted, she wasn't about to reveal one of the best-kept vampire secrets in London to just anyone.

"Lark…"

"Don't you dare ask me to wait outside," Lark warned, knowing what Tara was about to say. "This is my case and I'm going to see it through," She finished emphatically.

Tara couldn't help but admire the mortal's nerve. It stirred up memories of a friend she'd known in her past life. "Come on," She relented before venturing into the alley.

* * *

Dinner with Eric had never been a low-key affair, but as a cry of ecstasy rang out into the dimly lit room Pam decided she'd had more than she could take.

"For fuck sake," She blurted irritably, gingerly retracting her fangs as she pulled her mouth away from a muscular wrist. Nothing could kill her appetite faster than an overzealous fang banger.

"Is there a problem, Pamela?" Eric asked as he reluctantly parted from the neck of the busty blonde he was feasting on.

"Of course not," Pam answered flippantly. She wasn't going to waste a night with Eric Northman discussing her petty insecurities and domestic woes.

"Not in the mood for Greek?" Eric inquired, nodding toward the hairy male blood whore he'd rented for her consumption.

Another lie was on the tip of Pam's tongue when her progeny stormed through the door with an unconscious toddler in her arms and an anxious young woman at her back.

Baby blue eyes shifted from Tara to the girl she was holding.

"What is that?" Pam questioned as though she'd just been presented with a pint-sized Sasquatch. The smell told her it was vampire, but the sight told another story. In all her years, she'd never seen a human turned so young.

"It's a baby," Lark supplied. "You know, like, a wee helpless creature."

Rolling her eyes at the mortal, Pam turned to Tara for answers.

"Why's it here?" She asked, her voice not betraying a hint of concern for the little vampire's obviously delicate condition.

"She needs blood," Tara replied evenly, the desperation in her voice indiscernible to all but Pam.

"...Pardon us," Pam announced to her maker, before ambling out of the room. With nary a nod of recognition in Eric's direction, Tara swiftly followed. Lark, to her displeasure, was now left with two half-naked humans and an impossibly tall vampire with blood smeared about his mouth and desire in his eyes.

"Eric Northman," Eric introduced himself smoothly as he dabbed his bloody face with a lemon water soaked napkin. "And you might be?"

"Not interested," Lark replied matter-of-factly.

* * *

On the surface, the cellar of the Underground looked like any other one might find in Burgundy or Sonoma. However, the dim space was stocked to the brim with blood more expensive than any vintage of wine, which is why biometric authenticationand four separate security pins were required before the silver door barring entrance would yield.

Tara swayed with the baby vamp in her arms while Pam retrieved a dark bottle from a lower shelf, popped its cork, and offered it to her.

"Anythang smaller?"

"I'm afraid we're plum out of sippy cups," Pam answered irritably as she watched Tara awkwardly position the large bottle over the child's small mouth.

"I don't want her to choke," Tara complained, more than a little annoyed with Pam's indifference toward the girl.

"She's dead, a little choking won't kill her."

Shooting Pam one last frustrated glare, Tara began to walk toward the exit. She didn't want to cause the child any more stress than necessary.

"Tara, wait," Pam called out, her tone bordering on contrite. "Give her here"

The look she received from Tara was pure incredulity. Scoffing, Pam approached her hesitant partner and took the child from her arms. "I need a rag," She said.

Tara flashed out of sight, only to return a second later with a clean rag. As if reading her maker's mind, Tara dipped the white cloth into the open bottle until it was soaked crimson with blood.

"Here…"

Accepting the rag from Tara's hand, Pam rolled and shaped it until she was confident it was small enough to accommodate the lifeless baby vamp's mouth. It didn't take long before she began sucking hungrily.

"Good girl," Pam soothed in a tone Tara hadn't heard since she'd fed on a human for the first time. The semi-conscious baby vamp clutched at the cloth in an effort to get more blood.

Her right hand now free, Pam reached for the bottle in Tara's hands and readied it for when the girl fully roused. The moment came shortly before the rag flew across the room.

The rim of the bottle was pressed to the small girl's lips before she had a chance to wail.

At the rate she was drinking, Pam estimated the baby vamp could drain a human in a little over two minutes. Luckily, the twenty-five plus ounces of blood seemed to quell her hunger.

In her sated state, the bloodthirsty newborn vampire seemed a human child once more. The only giveaway was her bloody face and mouth, which she promptly and unceremoniously wiped all across Pam's one of a kind dress.

Burrowing her face into the older vampire's generous bosom, the agitated girl seemed to find some comfort.

Her night and her one of a kind dress ruined, Pam realized her reputation had suffered a similar fate as she looked up to see her progeny's amused grin.

"What?"

Tara's goofy smile grew wider. "Nothing, I-I just…You look nice like that is all," She answered, laughing warmly. "I mean, you look nice a lotta ways, but you-"

"Tara," Pam interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"This never happened," She warned in a threatening tone that was rendered toothless by the self-conscious mirth in her eyes.

Two hours later, the blood on her dress was Pam's only indication that anything eventful happened that night. After seeing to it that Lark's car was loaded up with a chilled crate of outrageously pricey bottled blood, Pam unloaded the placated baby vamp on her hip to be taken back to her human father.

Her increasingly sour mood wasn't at all helped by her maker's newfound infatuation with her progeny's coworker.

"Charming girl, that Lark," Eric remarked casually as she returned to the room where they'd previously been feasting.

This was Pam's final straw.

Taking leave of Eric and the Underground early, Pam hailed a cab to take her home. Although she'd previously offered to house Eric during his stay in London, she was now grateful the offer had been refused in favor of a Japanese style capsule hotel in SOHO.

Sulking, she was taught over a century ago, was best done in private.

Removing the sullied dress her maker bought her so long ago that he didn't even remember it, Pam began preparing for another day's sleep without her progeny.

* * *

"If I die of boredom, will you promise to turn me?" Lark asked, spinning idly in a squeaky office chair.

"Nah. I am definitely not cut out for motherhood," Tara joked as she scanned Lark's incomplete paperwork. After reuniting little Beyoncé with her father, she and Lark headed back to HMAL to complete the mandatory forms documenting their, heavily censored, version of the night's events. But at the rate the mortal was going she'd be lucky to make it home before dawn.

"You looked pretty ready tonight…"

"Don't even start," Tara warned tetchily.

"Honest. You'd make a terrific mum," Lark insisted, her expression serious as she brought her spinning chair to a halt.

"Lord knows I learned from the best," Tara mumbled as she thought of Lettie Mae, her disaster of a human mother. The sarcasm went unnoticed by Lark, who knew little of her supervisor's human past.

"Not like it's impossible these days, you know," Lark pressed on. "Vampire adoption's legal in the states, innit? In a few of them, anyway. And surrogacy's always an option. Better yet, you could meet a nice human girl-"

"You know, I think we oughtta finish this up Monday," Tara suggested abruptly, keen to put an end to the discussion.

"Suits me," Lark said, wavering like a drunk as she attempted to stand.

"You okay?" Tara asked, her concern plain. It wasn't until she looked at the large dark stain on Lark's pant leg that she remembered the baby vamp had mauled her earlier. "You should probably get checked out."

"That would be wise, yeah…"

"I can call an ambulance," Tara offered, rising from her seat at the conference table that stood between her and her coworker.

"Or you could spot me a few drops" Lark suggested, lowering her voice an octave as she walked around to where the vampire stood.

The suggestion earned the mortal a sidelong glare from Tara. In both her past and current incarnations, she'd encountered too many drug addicts to take a request like that at face value.

"I'm no V addict, if that's what you're thinking. But I can piddle in a wee cup first thing Monday morning, if that'll set your pretty little head at ease."

"_That_ won't be necessary," Tara dismissed emphatically as she approached Lark. "Say ah."

Smoothly slicing her wrist with a glossy and deceptively sharp fingernail, she held her bleeding wrist over the mortal's slightly extended tongue.

Averting her eyes from Lark's intense hazel eyes did little to assuage the bloodlust building from the sunny and all encompassing smell of the other woman's essence. Fearing her fangs would soon act on their own accord, Tara jerked her wrist away and quickly put distance between herself and the appetizing woman in front of her.

"Well, now that that's sorted," Lark spoke energetically, bouncing like a boxer before a prizefight. "Why don't you let me return the favor?"

There was no mistaking the mortal's offer. Tara was beginning to feel like a famished shark in bloody water.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Really," Lark exclaimed. "You're hungry, I'm horny. I'd say it's the best idea I've had in weeks."

"Come on," Tara said, smiling despite herself. "I'll walk you to your car."

"Och, you're so gallant! I can't stand it," Lark complained as she followed the vampire out of the office.

* * *

After politely declining Lark's offer for a ride home, Tara set out to take the 5K commute home from the city on foot. Racking her brain for a solution to her latest case, she was heedless of the alarmed stares her bloody hoodie earned from the Friday night revelers scattered about the bustling town.

Though she had yet to admit it to herself, there was no practical solution. There wasn't anyway the human could afford to supply anything the baby vampire needed on his own. Tara made a mental note to pick up a small coffin to replace the trolley case Moses had been keeping his daughter in during the day while he was out working.

"Why do I fuckin' bother," She mumbled irritably as the image of the luggage chained with silver sprang to mind. Work, she attempted to remind herself, made her feel self-sufficient. It gave her a sense of autonomy and purpose. But lately, more than anything, it depressed the hell out of her.

No matter how long and hard Tara worked to make a lasting impact, she felt as though she was placing Band-Aids on fatal wounds. Nothing was enough, and being bound by HMAL's red tape only made matters worse. Walking slowly under the weight of her doubts, it was a quarter to two when Tara finally arrived home.

"Hey."

Pam spun around at the unexpected sound of Tara's voice, her annoyance very nearly dissipating at the sight of her progeny sheepishly standing in the doorway of their bedroom.

"Hey," Pam echoed Tara softly from where she stood by their large capitone bed.

"You're home early," Tara observed as she pushed back the hood of her sullied red sweater.

"I could say the same of you," Pam replied, a slight edge to her voice.

Conceding to the dig with a rueful nod, Tara opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't apologize," Pam cautioned. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was an apologetic vampire.

"Sooo," Tara began hopefully, a mischievous glint surfacing in her fathomlessly dark eyes as she took a step toward their bed. With most of her recent nights spent at work, she couldn't remember the last time they'd destroyed one. "You're not mad?"

Pam's coy expression turned to disgust as Tara neared and the sweet scent of young blood, toddler toiletries, and Halfling fairy assaulted her senses. She held out a pale hand to keep Tara at bay. "Do something about those clothes and then we'll talk."

Tara sniffed at her hoodie and shot Pam a snide look before departing the room.

Hearing the shower start up in the bathroom, Pam plunked herself onto the bed and tried not to think of all the scenarios that may have contributed to the smell of Lark cloaking Tara.

_She can't spend eternity between your legs, Pamela._

Pam scoffed inwardly as the ghost of her sire's advice from years past returned to haunt her. She'd been a new maker back then, more concerned with keeping her bullheaded progeny from getting her head lobbed off than she was with her getting someone else off. She released a heavy sigh at the memory of Tara's first sword fighting lesson with Eric.

"What was that for," Tara questioned as she entered the room in her bra and jeans.

"What," Pam asked impatiently, her brows furrowing with confusion.

Tara struck her best damsel in distress pose and sighed exaggeratedly. "That," She said as she fished a crisply folded towel from the closet. "Eric not takin' you ta Harrod's?"

Regarding Tara with a scowl, Pam let a second pass before she voiced her annoyance.

"You know you could have told me if you wanted to fuck the fairy."

"Like fuckin' hell I do," Tara denied indignantly, her country accent flaring as she folded her arms across her scantily covered breasts. "...Mildred tell you that? I swear that nosey bitch has been working my last-"

"A vampire doesn't give a mortal their blood unless they want something in return," Pam answered tersely. She'd seduced enough humans to know that quickest way into their pants was through their veins.

And she'd known enough Halflings to know that they were glorified vampire meth.

"She was hurt," Tara defended, sounding as though she were on trial for a heinous crime she didn't commit. "Wait, how did you even know I gave her my blood?"

Pam shrugged innocently, not wanting to reveal just how much a maker could sense from their progeny. "Lucky guess," She lied dully.

"Oh yeah," Tara asked, becoming a blur as she moved to straddle her jealous partner. "What else you guess?"

"She wants you," Pam said as she reached up to toy with the strap of Tara's bra.

"And?" Tara questioned, removing Pam's hand from the strap before kissing her fingertips lightly.

"She cares for you," Pam continued, smiling as Tara playfully nibbled her finger.

"And you don't?"

"She's kind," Pam one-upped, her brow quirking as she waited for Tara to counter.

"You," Tara began, a thoughtful expression overtaking her features as she tried to figure out what to say. "Have your moments," Tara finished diplomatically before leaning down to capture her lover's lips.

"She's alive," Pam said as she narrowly avoided being kissed. "Where it counts," She continued, bringing Tara's left hand up to the cold space above where her heart had long ago ceased to beat.

"Okay, where the hell's this comin' from?" Tara asked irritably, not at all liking the course the conversation was taking. "You want me fucking someone warm and toasty for the winter or what?"

"I want you to be happy, Tara," Pam replied without hesitation. Not too long ago she would have been ready to decimate an entire town of rednecks to keep her maker by her side, whether he liked it or not. It was a mistake she refused to make with her progeny.

"Happy didn't exist for me before you," Tara asserted, her voice brimming with sincerity. "And it damn sure wouldn't exist without you."

"You say that now—"

"I'll say it forever" Tara interjected compellingly. She didn't care if it took a thousand years for her words to sink in, so determined was she to show her jaded lover just how much she wanted to be with her.

"Sounds tedious," Pam feigned disinterest as Tara descended for a kiss.

Tara hummed in agreement as she claimed Pam's lips, only to be pushed away moments later. "What," She asked in a kiss induced daze.

"Your ass is vibrating," Pam quipped before effortlessly slipping out from beneath the younger vampire. Cursing, Tara pulled a buzzing mobile from her back pocket and watched Pam fasten the belt of her robe.

"Work, is it," Pam asked in her polished Southern cadence as if she didn't already know the answer.

"There's a problem."

Pam gathered as much as she watched Tara down at her phone in dismay.

"Yon drank all the blood and her father's afraid he won't be able to get her to sleep in her…"

Tara trailed off as she looked up to find Pam fully dressed in an outfit that was equal parts governess and dominatrix, her hair pulled up into a loose Victorian-esque bun.

"You goin' somewhere?"

"I thought you could use a hand," Pam replied, sounding uncharacteristically helpful.

"Hold on, Kinky Poppins, a few hours ago you were lookin' at that girl like she had a contagious disease and now you're volunteerin' to see'er?"

"I'm an expert at putting colicky baby vamps to bed," Pam replied haughtily. "You usually pass out a minute after I'm done with you," She added, tossing Tara a camisole before turning to leave.

"Don't flatter yourself," Tara rebuffed halfheartedly while staring at the retreating blonde's curvy figure.

"Are you going to get dressed or stare at my ass all night," Pam questioned knowingly from the hallway.

Smirking, Tara pulled the camisole over her head and whizzed past her maker. If she moved fast enough, there would be time before dawn to get Pam back in bed to back up her smack talk.

* * *

**Mmmkay. Part of the reason I took so long posting this was I debating where to take this and whether to continue with bb vampyonce (funny enough my sister's listening to regularyoncé right now) I'm allergic to multichaps so I think it's safe/best to end this particular story here. Hope ya'll enjoyed it. **


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